


Christmas Shopping (Beware the Shoppers)

by okeydokey (LilMissNerdfighter)



Series: Merry Christmas from 221B [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Hamish is determined, John is oblivious, M/M, Mrs Hudson wishes Sherlock would eat more, Sherlock is frustrated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 21:44:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilMissNerdfighter/pseuds/okeydokey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a moment of weakness (almost stupidity, really), Sherlock agreed to go Christmas Shopping. The question is a) why are Christmas Shoppers so terrifying and b) what is an acceptable present to get John?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Shopping (Beware the Shoppers)

The sound of jovial Christmas music filled the air and Sherlock winced, backing away from the noise, knocking into the crowds of people who were trying to push past him. Beware of the Christmas Shoppers, they are the most deadly things to walk the Earth, John had told him a couple of weeks ago, when he had informed John of his intentions to actually buy presents this year. He had laughed at his husband for exaggerating so much, but now he could see that John had been right, they were prepared to do whatever they had to do to get the job done. Moriarty could’ve taken tips from these Shoppers. Sherlock tried to shove his way backwards through the hordes of people, but a hand reached out and pulled him back in the opposite direction. He tried to wrench himself from the hand’s grip, but it was surprisingly strong.

‘Hamish, let me go!’ Sherlock growled, trying to wriggle away from his son. Hamish shook his head and pulled him to the side of the path, watching as the Shoppers continued to stampede into the shops.

‘You told me not to let you leave without buying a present for Dad, remember? You told me that you could do this!’ Hamish retorted, his eyebrows furrowed, using all of his strength to keep his father from running away. ‘If you can deal with criminals on a daily basis, you can deal with Christmas shopping, it’s not difficult!’

‘I’ve changed my mind. Let me go!’ yelled Sherlock. Some of the Shoppers slowed slightly hearing the shouts, which were almost drowned out by the music and the sound of the crowd’s footsteps and chatter. However, once they had seen that the man was no immediate threat to the small ten year old (who was the spitting image of his father), they marched onwards. _Just another father being forced go shopping for Christmas presents._

‘No. You promised Dad, and breaking promises is not a good habit. Now, come on. It won’t take long- what did he say he wanted?’ Hamish released his father, who stood their glaring at him.

‘I don’t know.’ Sherlock muttered, not making eye contact with the boy in front of him. Hamish sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sometimes, his father could be so difficult!

‘He didn’t mention any books or films or-no? Of course not. Okay.’ Hamish sighed. ‘We’ll try Waterstones first; you can’t go wrong- far wrong-with a book.’

Sherlock looked like he was about to protest, but changed his mind at the last minute. What did he know about Christmas shopping?

**

Twenty minutes later, Sherlock was still completely lost. Hamish was sitting on the floor by rows of bookcases, occasionally waving a book at his father (they were all detective stories or medical books). None of them were quite right and Sherlock was beginning to lose hope. He looked around shop, spinning in circles, trying to find anything that seemed right for his John.

‘I could always buy him a year’s supply of milk?’ suggested Sherlock in a moment of sheer desperation. Why was this present thing so difficult? Hamish rolled his eyes and continued to search- looking more and more distracted as the minutes passed. 

When Hamish showed him a thick volume entitled ‘Sherlock Holmes: The Reichenbach Hero’, Sherlock knew it was time to give up. Hamish secretly bought the book, while Sherlock was lost in thought (back up present, he could always get his father to write a scathing commentary over it).

Sherlock ran through the shopping centre (even though the shops were open later on weekdays near Christmas, he had half an hour before they shut), frantically buying things. That pair of socks- what the hell, that jumper too- a new camera, some candles, cartons of powdered milk, a first aid kit and a million other things which reminded Sherlock of John. Hamish shadowed his father, smiling at his panic. Sherlock only stopped when he finally reached a stationary shop.

He bought the most expensive pen, smiling as he grabbed Hamish’s hand and ran with him to grab a taxi (his bags banging into his knees and almost tripping Hamish up).He finally knew what he wanted to buy John for Christmas (he hoped Mrs Hudson would comply). Hamish laughed at his father’s delight, and at the sheer amount of stuff Sherlock had purchased. Half of the stuff cost less than 99p, but he was sure there was a meaning behind each gift- although what was so special about a stuffed toy dog with glowing red eyes, he didn’t know. He hoped that his father was going to wrap the presents, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to do it.

**

Hamish was upstairs with John, showing him how to make lasagne (although he was doing most of the work), leaving Sherlock free to go and speak to Mrs Hudson.

‘You’re too thin!’ fussed Mrs Hudson, shoving a mince pie and a cup of tea into his hands. He smirked and ate the mince pie in three bites to satisfy his landlady (not his housekeeper). ‘What was it you wanted, Sherlock?’

‘I came to talk to you about 221B.’ Sherlock started through a mouthful of the pie. Mrs Hudson paled slightly, her voice wobbling as she spoke.

‘You want to move out?’

‘Oh God, no!’ Sherlock almost yelled, waving his hands (spilling scalding tea all over his legs). Mrs Hudson sighed in relief, and the colour returned to her cheeks. She offered Sherlock a cloth to mop up his legs, but he rejected it. ‘It’s fine! No, we don’t want to move out. What I came to ask was if we- well, I- could buy 221B off you. It’s alright if you say no-’

‘Of course it’s fine. As long as you don’t forget about me!’ Mrs Hudson shook her head, smiling as if he had said something ridiculous. Sherlock pulled her into a tight hug.

‘Thank you so much, Mrs Hudson.’

‘It’s okay, dear. Now, have another biscuit.’

**

John had fallen asleep in his armchair an hour ago, and Sherlock had covered him with a blanket (after checking that Hamish was actually asleep, not reading by torchlight). The negotiations with Mrs Hudson had taken almost no time at all, and he had managed to wrap most of the presents. Sherlock was pleased that he had managed to buy presents for Hamish at the same time as John (there was no way he was going through that again. Christmas shopping, ugh). Hamish didn’t suspect a thing, and now they both had presents under the wonky tree.

How did people wait for their families to open their presents? The anticipation was killing him!

**

John opened one bleary eye, his neck aching. It was in the early hours of the morning, and the tree lights were still on. Sherlock hadn’t gone to bed then. He wasn’t in his chair, and was instead curled up on the floor, hugging a stack of newly wrapped presents. His husband was so odd, John thought affectionately, slipping a cushion under Sherlock’s head.

‘John?’ Sherlock mumbled sleepily, as John checked that he was covered with a duvet.

‘Yes, love?’ God, he was so adorable when he was half asleep, although you’d never hear John tell him that to his face.

‘Merry Christmas.’

‘Merry Christmas, Sherlock.’


End file.
